


Build it up and burn it down

by RainbowArches



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Background Relationships, I Believe in Jasper Sitwell, Implied Relationships, M/M, Minor Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowArches/pseuds/RainbowArches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Fury, from start to finish. Well, sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build it up and burn it down

_Vera didn’t shut the closet door. She could see movement through the slit she’d left open. The principal was spilling kerosene on the desk. Vera put a hand to her chest, feeling for the lump made by the student records which she’d tucked inside her dress. She silently avoided the light that shone in from the space she’d left. She could feel a bruise forming on the small of her back, the boot rack digging into her as she pushed herself as far back as she could. It smelled damp and stale in here, the old winter and sweat that stuck to the lost-and-found coats permeating the air and making her gag. She strained to hear the muffled voices outside._

_-You sure everyone’s evacuated?_

_-It’s the holidays. Everyone’s gone._

_She gripped her belly as another contraction hit. They’d started the moment she’d made her decision, despite not being due until the New Year. But she was going to finish this. The baby would just have to wait. She pulled the papers out of her dress and bit down on them hard, screwing her eyes shut._

_She heard hurried footsteps making their exit, followed by the crackle of fire. Smoke drifted into the closet. She made to leave, slipping slightly. There was a puddle at her feet. She reached down to feel her legs, and she realized her water had broken._

_She ran out of the closet, but the fire had spread quickly and was blocking her exit out of the office. She headed to the window at the back, grabbing a chair and hurling it at the glass. It shattered. Pulling herself up and out was a struggle with the baby wanting to come out this instant. She managed, though, scraping her belly on the window sill and landing inelegantly on the ground, falling backwards into the snow. She picked herself up and ran as fast and as far as she could away from the burning building, until the baby refused to wait any longer._

_She collapsed in the snow and pushed down her nylons. What followed was probably the shortest labor in history. She cried out, and the baby was crying with her in no time at all. She sat up and picked up the baby, wrapping him in the skirt of her dress. She stared into the bloody snow, vaguely registering the afterbirth lying there, and wondered what to use to clamp the umbilical cord. The records were held together with a paperclip. Her hand flew to her chest. She was relieved to find that she’d remembered to tuck them back into her dress before leaving. She pulled out the paperclip and slipped it onto the cord, pinching slightly. It wasn’t optimal but it would have to do._

_She stood up and pulled her tights back up with one hand. She’d have to cut the cord somehow, and clean them both up. And then drive to the nearest hospital. She walked to the shed, clutching her baby to her chest to keep her warm. The cold was biting but Vera didn’t notice. She was too focused on accomplishing her task, step by step._

_She left the shed door wide open. The burning school building was the only source of light she could use. She found some shears, which she carefully used to cut the cord. She also found a burlap sack, which she used as an outer layer to keep her baby warm._

_That would have to do for now. She didn’t want to stay here any longer. She ran to the car, praying that it would last the trip to the nearest hospital._

 

Funny how these pre/post meeting drinking parties with SHIELD and other government bigwigs simultaneously made Nick nervous and bored the crap out of him, when he was soon to be one of the bigwigs. He knew that because he was here in the first place. During the pre-things he kept a drink in his hand, which he usually forgot about (at the post-things it was a struggle keeping his glass full). Carter kept her arm linked with his as he introduced him to new people, or reintroduced him to people who never bothered to remember his name.

“Oh dear,” Carter muttered through her fixed smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“Pierce has noticed us.” She nodded towards a man in a group who was glancing at them and looked like he was planning to come over. He had that blond, angelic handsomeness that always set Nick on edge. He looked like a walking toothpaste commercial.

“What’s he like?”

“Oh, he’s alright, really. Just so damn _decent._ You know, the artificial sort of decent? Like the boys in high school who thought I owed them something for paying attention to me.”

“That doesn’t sound nice.”

“Oh, I’m probably just being a grumpy old woman. I think it’s the grin. It irks me.”

Pierce had made his way over at this point. Carter was right about the grin. It was flashy. Nick swore the man’s tooth twinkled.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” he said to Carter. “I’ve missed our chats. You’ve been avoiding me, Peg.”

Carter’s grip on Nick’s arm tightened slightly as if to say “ _See what I mean?”_

“You’re always surrounded,” she said. “But now that I have you alone, I can introduce you to Nicholas Fury, my second in command and one of SHIELD’s most talented agents. Nick, Alexander Pierce, one of our representatives in the state department.”

“Nice to meet you, Nick,” Pierce said, pointing his grin at Nick now and thrusting his hand out. Nick took it and tried not to smile too tiredly. “Peggy’s been grooming you as her replacement, has she?”

Nick opened his mouth to answer but he was interrupted.

“Aw, of course she is. I know how these things work. It’s good you’re making the rounds now; make a good first impression early. Because you know she doesn’t get final say, right?”

She was too professional to let it show, but Nick could feel Carter bristling.

“Well, you lot have the public’s best interests at heart, so I’m sure we won’t have any problems,” she said.

Pierce chuckled warmly in that rich way of rich people. It was a likeable sound, because everything about Pierce was Likeable with a capital L. No wonder he set Carter’s teeth on edge. He was a giant brat.

 

At the post-things Carter and Nick stopped clinging to each other and went their separate ways for the night. Nick decided to take a walk outside. It was too stuffy inside; too much posturing and cigar smoke. He took his time, strolling through the garden, breathing in the fresh air like a cleanser.

Pierce was sitting on a bench, hunched over tiredly, sucking a cigarette. Nick’s first instinct was to turn back quietly and pretend he’d never been there. But the man looked… depressed? Defeated? He didn’t look happy, anyway. Nick was never happy at these things either. They required him to pretend more than he was willing; pretend he wanted to be here, pretend he wanted to talk to these people, pretend he liked them, pretend not to notice them pretending.

Pierce, at the moment, wasn’t pretending (Captain America, from those cheesy old films! _That’s_ who he reminded Nick of). He looked like a guy who didn’t want to be here, which was enough to make Nick want to talk to him.

“I’m going to honest,” Nick said, sitting down without an invitation.

“Yeah, I hear you’re known for that.”

Nick ignored him. “I hate these things.”

Pierce huffed, a puff of smoke mushrooming around them.

“That’s not going to jeopardize my chances of promotion, is it?”

Pierce waved the question off. “Nah. Everyone hates these things. You think any of that’s real in there?”

“I never believed any of it. Not sure I want to actually know them, I just want everyone to stop coming to these things.”

Pierce continued, mostly talking to himself. “They’ve all got families, girlfriends, boyfriends, programs on T.V., illicit clubs to haunt, weird shit to snort. No one wants to be here.”

“See? That’s why I hate these guys. It’s not the phoniness so much as all the time it wastes. Because everything would go a lot easier and faster if they all just cut the crap and said what they were really thinking. That’s why we’re here in the first place, isn’t it? To see what’s working and what isn’t? That and I’ve been mistaken for a busboy at every single one of these things.”

“Heh.” Pierce unfurled, leaning back and stretching his arms along the back of the bench. Nick had to hold his slightly hunched position to avoid trapping Pierce’s thumb. “Nick, you have my vote, if only because you don’t need to keep up appearances and I think you could get these guys to listen.”

“A vote? Is that how this works?”

“We all like to think so. But I like you, Nick. I think you should take over for Director Carter, when the time comes.”

“I’m happy to hear that, even though I think you’re playing me.”

Pierce laughed. “How do I know you’re not playing me?”

 

Nick felt bad, leaving with Pierce, lying naked with him in his hotel bed, sharing a cigarette. He felt like he’d betrayed Carter in some way. They usually took separate cars back, because Nick liked to go out and do something fun after the meetings, but she clearly had a problem with Pierce. Nick had a problem with him too. He couldn’t remember what it was, but he was sure he had one.

“You should come over for dinner sometime. Meet the wife.”

Nick didn’t even flinch. “Sure. Love to.”

 

_When Nick was around ten he started taking the fifteen minute trip to his granddad’s work by himself so that the two of them could have lunch together. His grandma had walked with him there several times before to get groceries. It was a busy but friendly street and Nick knew the route; no one gave him any trouble or thought it unusual for a kid to be out by himself around here. His grandparents sometimes talked about how the neighborhood was starting to decline but Nick never noticed any real difference._

_He enjoyed the walk. He felt like he belonged in the rush and noise and business, like the grownups in suits carrying briefcases, striding purposefully into indistinguishable shiny buildings to do whatever they did in there. Nick imagined it entailed a lot of paper and phone calls; that part didn’t interest him much. He just liked the purposefulness of it all._

_Granddad was usually waiting for him on the bench outside his building with the woman who worked the desk there and who always had candy for him._

_“Ready to go, Nico? Say thank you to Anna.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Let’s go.”_

_They tried to go somewhere different every time, but cheeseburgers and fries were their usual craving and there was a good place for that just a block away. The restaurant had a pretty regular clientele; it was a convenient place for people on their lunch break so everyone who went there knew each other._

_“Your mom used to work here,” Granddad told him one day._

_“She did?”_

_“Briefly. Before she went to college.”_

_“Maybe I can work here too and then we can walk to work together.”_

_Granddad smiled. “Maybe. No need to worry about that just yet.”_

_Nick’s grandma had been prone to sickness since she was little, and one day she got sick again and only seemed to get sicker. Nick got too busy looking after her and the house meet his granddad for lunch anymore. Eventually he started taking on odd jobs around the block- delivering papers, mowing lawns, walking dogs. Anything that kept him near the house._

_One morning Nick noticed that Granddad had forgotten his lunch so Nick decided to take it to him. The walk wasn’t as nice as he remembered. He took in the dilapidated old shops and the general crankiness of the rush. Even his and Granddad’s favorite restaurant was boarded up. It was all scorched and dusty like there’d been a fire. Granddad hadn’t said anything about it closing down._

_Passing by a confectionary, he considered buying a candy bar to put in Granddad’s lunch as a surprise. He peered in the bag to see what Granddad had packed. He was startled to find a gun resting on top of the sandwich. The place wasn’t that rough, was it? Nick probably wasn’t supposed to know about the gun. He decided to buy candy bar to slip into the bag anyway and just not mention it. Granddad would know that Nick knew and would handle it however he thought best._

_Nick had never actually been inside Granddad’s building before. He was relieved to see that Anna was still working the desk. He didn’t know if people were being chased away or if they had given up on the place, but at least Anna was still here. “Hi, Anna.”_

_“Nick! Haven’t seen you in a while.”_

_“Yeah, well, our favorite restaurant closed, so Granddad’s been packing his own lunch.” He held up the bag to show her. “Is he here?”_

_“Just down the hall,” Anna answered, pointing._

_Granddad was standing by the elevator, back straight, hands clasped behind his back. He was more surprised and concerned than happy that Nick was here._

_“Hey, kid. What are you doing here? Are you alright?”_

_Nick held out the bag. “You forgot your lunch.”_

_Granddad froze momentarily. “Thanks,” he said and took it. He smiled, sort of as an afterthought, and Nick knew that he knew he’d looked in the bag. Nick figured it wasn’t knowing about the gun that bothered Granddad, but that Nick had carried it all the way here._

_“Do you want to wait with me until lunch or do you want me to get you a cab?”_

_“No one bothered me. I can walk.”_

_“Well… be careful then.”_

_“Why are you so keen on the army, Mr. Johnson?” The person talking to him was an older, militant-looking woman. She’d taken him outside in an alley. Nick got the feeling he was in trouble._

_He shrugged. He wasn’t sure how much to tell her._

_“Well, you’re a skilled fighter. Two black belts and I hear you’ve started boxing. Apparently you’re taking to it quite quickly.”_

_He immediately straightened up. “Who did you hear that from?” he demanded._

_“I get around.”_

_“I’ve never seen you.”_

_“Good.”_

_Nick frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to look too nervous, defensive or curious. “What do you do?”_

_“We’ll get to that in a moment. Why are you so interested in fighting, Mr. Johnson?”_

_Nick shrugged again. “It’s a rough neighborhood.”_

_“Ever considered moving to a nicer neighborhood?”_

_Nick raised an eyebrow at her._

_“Alright, fair enough,” she said. “But most people who aren’t interested in fighting, don’t fight. Why are you so interested in fighting?”_

_Nick rolled his eyes. “What do you care, lady? Who are you anyway?”_

_“Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD.” She offered her hand. He took it grudgingly. “That’s the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. We’re a peacekeeping organization. I think it’s something you’d be interested.”_

_“Instead of the army?”_

_“Actually, we need a liaison. You’re a little younger than what SHIELD-“_

_“I’m-“_

_“I know how old you are, Mr. Johnson. But if you’re determined to emancipate yourself so soon you should consider my offer. Consider it insurance.”_

_Nick was still wary, but like he said, what else was he going to do? “Why are you talking to me in particular?”_

_“I have an eye for talent. And character.”_

_“If I say no, will I wake up tomorrow?”_

_She laughed. “I’ll admit I’d be disappointed, but not that disappointed. Well, I think you’ve made your decision, but I’ll leave you to think about it a little longer. This isn’t something you should rush into.”_

 

“Alex?”

“Mm?” His voice was muffled between Nick’s legs.

“Remember what you said about making the rounds and a good first impression?”

“Mm-hm.”

“This isn’t what you meant, is it?”

Alex laughed, sitting up on his knees. “No. Why? Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“No. And that’s not what I’m doing with you. Just wanted you to know that.” Nick gestured bossily at Alex to continue what he’d been doing.

“You know, we still haven’t had dinner.”

“Just tell me when.”

 

Nick was one of the few people allowed in Stark’s lab. Stark was a show-off, but a very territorial one. Nick kept his hands to himself and showed just the right amount of nonintrusive curiosity to make Stark appreciate his visits. Sometimes the scientist had a new invention for Nick to help him test out, other times he was writing furiously on a white board and barely noticed him. Today, like most days lately, he was staring at the weird, shapeshifting rock he had procured.

“Do you know what it is yet?” Nick asked when Stark failed to notice him.

 Normally when Nick snuck up on him like that he got a funny reaction. But today Stark just went, “Mm? Oh. No, not yet.”

“Do you know what it does yet?”

“Not yet?”

“Do you know why it’s here, what it’s for, or where it’s from?”

“Not yet.”

Nick didn’t usually pester Stark like this but then he had never seen Stark like this. He was looking for either excited rambling or disgruntled snapping, not the dazed, monotonous responses he was currently getting.

The stone melted and reformed into another abstract shape.

“Why does it do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Still nothing. Ever since that stone arrived, Stark spent all day in the lab, staring at it, clipboard held loosely in his hand and forgotten, like he was hypnotized. Nick peered over Stark’s shoulder to see what he’d written so far. The paper was blank. He glanced at Stark’s face. His eyes were glazed and slightly bloodshot. He looked like he’d locked himself into a staring contest and forgot he was in one.

Nick waved his hand in front of his face. Stark blinked, “Hm? What?”

“Just checking you were still with us. Did you even sleep last night?”

“Yeah, probably.” Stark looked down at his clipboard, saw nothing, and dropped it onto the table in frustration.

“You see anything in that thing?” Nick asked, nodding towards the rock.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m supposed to, but I don’t have the first clue what I’m looking at.” He went around the table and collapsed in the chair, scrubbing his face tiredly with his hands.

Nick turned his attention to the stone. He hated that thing. When you were only looking at it, it looked like a boring, pretentious, abstract art piece. But then you looked harder, examined it, studied it, and it seemed to study you back. It was like it hid and revealed itself at the same time. You’d start feeling like it was alive. And then you’d think, “That’s crazy. It’s just a big rock.” And then it would reshape itself right in front of you. It gave Nick the creeps.

“Let’s get some lunch,” Nick said. “You’ve been staring at that thing too long.”

 

“I’m beginning to think you only want to have lunch with me so you can eat five star restaurants for free.”

“Hey, you pick the restaurants, not me.”

“You could chip in, at least. Do you think I’m made of money?”

“Yes.”

Having got some fresh air and with the smell of quality food in tiny portions surrounding them, Stark was back to his lively old self, flirting with the waitress and handing out autographs to anyone who asked, and sometimes to people who didn’t ask. Stark had exactly two moods: acerbic and rich. It was nice to see him back to one of them.

“How’s Tony?”

Stark beamed. “He made his first circuit board yesterday.”

So he did go home yesterday, Nick thought. Good.

“I tell you Nick, that kid’s going to change the world one day.”

“I’m sure you’re right, sir.”

You had to ask, but when you did Stark would go on and on about how clever his son was and all the things he could do and all the plans Stark had for him, always with a huge smile and an ambitious gleam in his eyes. Nick didn’t usually ask and he wasn’t sure why he did now. Maybe he wanted to assure himself that Stark could still get that excited about another human being. Or maybe he just liked the idea of being a SHIELD agent and a family man at the same time, that Nick’s single-minded focus on his job was just him and not the rule. He never seriously considered starting a family of his own. It was just comforting to hear Stark and Carter talk about theirs.

“You should come over sometime. We’ll have dinner.”

Nick wouldn’t know whether or not he meant it unless Maria called and repeated the invitation. “Sure. Whenever you want.”

 

Nick and Carter chased Zola’s cybernetically enhanced lab rats through some sort of mad scientists’ black market into the early hours, only to have the things explode in their faces once collected. Carter ordered Stark to come deal with the bits and pieces, and Nick allowed her to persuade him to crash on her couch, her place being much closer.

Nick was up again a few hours later; six a.m., as usual. He was exhausted, but routine wouldn’t allow him to sleep any longer, so he got up and made some extra strong coffee and started scrambling some eggs. Carter joined him shortly after, looking quite angry at being awake but probably unable to sleep and longer either.

“Daniella’s visiting me at the moment,” she grouched. “Wretched girl will probably sleep till noon. Oh well. At least I can give you this before she gets up.” They’d sat down to eat at this point. She slid an envelope across the table to him. “That’s a letter from your mother. She’d like to see you sometime, when you’re not busy.”

Nick stared at it, not sure how to react. He hadn’t seen his mom since he was little. He’d wondered about her from time to time, wondered whether he should look her up. He never did. He wasn’t sure why. He guessed he was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to find her, or that she didn’t want him to. He’d never thought that as a child, but he’d been slightly clueless back then.

 “I didn’t know you were friends with my mom.”

“I don’t see her much. Whenever I do she always asks after you.”

Nick shrugged and pocketed the letter. “I’ll read it later.”

“Are you going to call her?”

“I don’t know.”

Daniella came out of her room then, still in her pajamas, her hair unbrushed. Her eyes widened when she saw Nick and she blushed faintly. “Oh! I didn’t know we had company or I would have freshened up.”

 

Nick did have dinner with the Pierces eventually. It was awkward at first, at least for him. Vivien, Alex’s wife, was polite and cheerful and didn’t seem to suspect a thing. She asked him questions about working for SHIELD, about what he did before that, about his family; she chatted happily about their daughter, who was doing very well in university (Alex had never mentioned her before. Nick wished he had so that he didn’t feel so jolted by the information now).

Nick was glad he’d skipped lunch. Dinner came in too many courses for just three people. He wondered if Alex always ate this way or if he was showing off. Nick’s method was to save time and energy by making enough to last the week, and anything that went bad was rat food.

Desert was a simple chocolate cake. Nick was already sleepy from all the food and wine and tea and couldn’t contribute to the conversation anymore. Vivien didn’t seem to mind; she’d keep talking as long as people kept listening. Alex was happy to recline in his chair and smoke all evening, barely making a sound.

The drive home was quiet. Nick thought about breaking it off with Alex right now. That would be the right thing to do. The Pierces had a perfectly comfortable setup; they didn’t need Nick worming his way in. Nick liked Vivien. From what he heard about her daughter he’d probably like her too. He was mad at Alex for keeping up this affair with him. A quick glance at his happy-tipsy face told him that Alex didn’t particularly care.

Nick stared out the passenger window until the lights blurred into a distant wave of fire. He wasn’t going to end it either, for reasons he didn’t care to think on at the moment.

They pulled in front of his apartment building. “Goodnight,” Nick said, about to step out.

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

“You already got one. From your wife, remember? See you later.”

 

_Anna still had candy every time Nick saw her. She probably wasn’t keeping it specifically for him anymore, though she always insisted he take some whenever he stopped by. He was the closest she had to a child of her own and jumped at the chance to spoil him like a kid, even though he was way too old for that kind of thing. He let her anyway, and he made her tea and cleared up the kitchen for her because he felt bad for not visiting more._

_“How are they treating you, soldier?”_

_Nick shrugged. “Like a soldier. But they’re really nice about it.”_

_“They must really want to keep you. You should leave.”_

_Nick laughed. Anna used to be subtle about her dislike of him joining the army. At some point she’d decided she could stop faking support for his career choice._

_“I can’t leave now. The war’s not over yet.”_

_“The wars never over, Nick. Weren’t you going to do something about that old diner?”_

_Yeah, he was. He was going to be the new owner of the place. He was going to clean it out and start it up again, maybe get all the old clientele back. Ha. He’d been all sentiment not long ago. “I’ll get to that eventually,” he assured her._

_“I don’t know. If Peggy tried to recruit me I’d probably never have got back to tailoring.”_

_Nick smiled. “I don’t know. You’re pretty stubborn.”_

_He really wished he could visit more. She was lonely. Her health had forced her to retire and she was home alone most days, what with the hours her husband kept, and her friends all having jobs and grandchildren to look after._

_“Don’t stay away too long.”_

_“I’ll keep coming back. I promise.”_

Maria did eventually call Nick and invite him to dinner. Peggy, Angie, and Daniella were invited too. Nick had met Angie once before, that day he’d had breakfast with Peggy and Daniella. She’d let herself into the apartment, went in talking about an audition or something, given Daniella a hug and a kiss and then doing the same to Nick before realizing she’d never seen him before. “Oh. You’re new. Where do you keep picking up these kids, English?”

“I have to get ready for work,” Peggy had said, and went into her room mumbling about morning people.

“Well, hurry up.” And then Angie took Carter’s seat at the table and proceeded to tell Nick and Daniella about the commercial she had lined up. Nick liked her. He thought she was funny.

“What’s James up to these days, Peggy?” Maria asked.

“Who knows? He talked about backpacking with some friends from school. I haven’t seen him all year. That boy can never stay in one place for more than five minutes.”

“I heard Gabe and Henrietta were doing that, too. Sort of a second honeymoon.”

“Oh, really? That’s romantic,” Daniella said, and she and Angie proceeded to gush about all the places they would visit on a backpacking trip.

“Where’s Tony?” Peggy asked.

“He’s at camp. He’s wanted to try it out so we finally found him a good program.”

“I found him several good programs two summers ago,” said Howard. “But Maria thought he was too young.”

Everyone was a bit tipsy after dinner. They all made their way to the living room, except Howard, who’d gone outside with his wine glass and a cigar. Peggy, Angie and Maria talked about the old days mostly, causing Daniella to nod off. Nick stayed and listened for a while, but found himself yawning before long, so he went outside to join Howard.

The night was cool and breezy. Howard was standing with his eyes closed, empty glass in one hand, cigar in the other, feeling the wind brush past his face and ruffle his hair.

“How you doing, sir?”

“Mmm?” Howard opened his eyes and blinked at him. Then he grinned. “Hey Nick!” he said as if just noticing Nick was there. He was in the heavy, sleepy, blissful and unaware stage of drunkenness. He was one sip away from passing out.

“Little too much?” Nick asked.

“Eh? Oh, pfft.” Howard waved him off. “Nah.” He flung an arm around Nick and led him to the bench. “Let’s sit down.”

Nick sat and Howard collapsed next to him with a big tired sigh. Nick watched his head fall back and his eyes close, like he was recovering from a long work day, the smoke from his cigar curling around his face.

“Heard from Tony? How’s he liking camp?”

“He’s having fun, he says.” His voice was slurred and quiet.

 “You seem tired.”

“Yeah, it’s getting late.”

“No, I mean like, generally tired. Of everything.”

The corners of Howard’s lips twitched upward. “I’m old. Bunch of crap is catching up with me.”

“What crap?”

“Oh… just a lot of crap.”

Nick irritably batted a mosquito away. They were really bad tonight. There was one sucking on Howard’s temple but he didn’t seem to notice. Nick shooed it off.

“Time to retire?”

“Ha! Wouldn’t know how.”

Nick could believe that. He could believe that of everyone at SHIELD. “There’s always work to do,” he agreed. He leaned back and closed his eyes, mimicking Howard’s pose. “I should try backpacking sometime. Maybe show Daniella around Europe. She kept looking at me when she was talking about Barcelona.” He inhaled deeply, smelling the smoke that had drifted to him. “I don’t know. Doesn’t feel like something that’ll ever happen- backpacking, I mean. Not for fun, anyway. You know I was going to run a diner before Carter found me? Sounds funny thinking about it now. Doesn’t feel like that’ll ever happen either.”

He opened his eyes and looked at Stark to find him snoring lightly. Nick huffed a laugh and shook his head, taking the cigar from Howard’s hand and finishing it off.

 

Phil Coulson was Nick’s very first recruit. Seventeen, straight As, miniscule criminal record, plenty of promise and ambition but zero direction. Nick went to his school to take in the shops teacher for use of unknown alien materials. Coulson had come in to finish a project, seen the struggle, and took out his teacher with a swift blow to the head.

“Never liked him,” the kid declared. “What’d he do anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick said, stooping to handcuff the man. “I’m going to have to close this room off. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“But I have to finish this project by the end of the day,” Coulson complained.

“Does it really matter anymore?”

Coulson looked down at his soon to be ex-teacher and shrugged. “Guess not.”

Nick stood up and considered the kid for a moment. “You got class right now?”

“No.”

“Wanna help me load him into the van?”

Coulson narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Who’d you say you are again?”

Nick showed him his badge. Coulson’s eyes widened excitedly. “So you’re like a secret agent?”

“You going to help me or not?”

They loaded him into the van and Nick gave him his card. “Call me if you see anything suspicious. Don’t get stupid about this card though. I don’t want to have to come back to wipe your memory.”

He didn’t wait to see if Coulson believed him or not, but a few weeks later he called to invite Nick to his graduation ceremony to hear his speech. Nick went, fighting his way through a sea of kids to find him afterwards, wishing Coulson had simply asked for a job.

Nick brought him to SHIELD. Carter vetted him and then sent Nick to Bogota.

 

_Granddad was excited to teach Nick chess, even more excited when Nick took to it right away. Nick was a little discouraged at only almost winning every time. Granddad said it was because he kept hoarding his pieces._

_“You’re so busy guarding your king that you don’t notice an attack until it’s too late. You gotta branch out. You gotta actually play. It’s a dangerous, ruthless game, but if you’re going to play, then you have to play.”_

Nick got the hang of it eventually but the first game of chess he actually one was against Pierce years later. It was almost too hot to think out on the balcony. Pierce had unbuttoned most of his shirt, exposing his chest hair and tan lines. Nick had forgone his shirt altogether a while ago.

“Play a lot of chess?” Pierce asked.

“Not really.”

“Often enough, though.” Pierce gestured at the recently conquered chess board.

“I’ve lost enough times to know what not to do,” Nick admitted. “You play too nice.”

 

Nick swung himself up and out of bed and started getting dressed, leaving Alex alone in the sweaty tangle of sheets with half-lidded eyes and a cigarette in his hand, smoke twirling up towards the ceiling. He watched Nick with a lazy, amused smile.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me,” he joked.

“You don’t have to be an asshole,” Nick said, doing up his belt.

Alex rolled over onto his side. “You’re being paranoid.”

“I’m being professional.” He sat on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots.

Alex chuckled, and Nick tried to ignore how condescending it sounded.

“You can be professional and still have fun,” Alex said.

“Maybe you can. It’s not the same for me.”

“Sure it is.”

Nick scowled. “No, it isn’t. Look, I just don’t want anyone using you as leverage to… get me thrown out or something. I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.”

Alex huffed a laugh. It annoyed Nick that he wasn’t being taken seriously. “It’s just sex, Nick. I don’t see why anything has to change.”

Nick turned to look at him. “Why aren’t you being serious about this?” he asked, exasperated.

“Why should I be?”

Nick pulled on his shirt. “Whatever.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, babe,” Alex teased, pouting.

Nick smirked despite himself. “Shut up.”

“You going to miss me?”

“Nope,” Nick lied.

Alex stared at him with that stubborn smile of his, and then shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. “Fine. Whatever you think is best, Director.”

 

_Nick woke up with that dead feeling you got after being really sick and feeling like you were dying. He’d been on a typical mission that went wrong in a typical way, not that he remembered it clearly. It had just been a nasty cold but he never wanted to be that sick on a mission again. He must have had a fever, but it had passed now. Now he was more aware of his surroundings, aware enough to realize that he had no idea where he was. He could hear Carter laughing cheerfully downstairs, and he smelled food. Probably a safe house then; nothing to worry about._

_He settled back into bed, keeping the covers over his shoulders, and waited for the pounding in his head to die down._

_The floorboards down the hall creaked as someone cautiously made their way towards his room. He wondered what the caution was for, if there was someone here that Carter and whoever she was talking to didn’t know about. He reached for his gun, just in case, before remembering it was at the bottom of the river._

“Melinda!”

_The floorboards stopped creaking._

“I told you to set the table!”

_There was the sound of footsteps scurrying downstairs._

_Nick took that as his cue to get up. He changed into the clean clothes that had been left for him, and used the bathroom down the hall to wash up before heading downstairs to the kitchen._

_Carter was at the stove making pancakes while another woman was making a fruit salad._

_“Oh good, you’re up,” said the woman who wasn’t Peggy. “Could you help her before she drops something?”_

_She gestured at the girl- Melinda- who was trying to carry everything at once. Nick grabbed the syrup and cutlery from her stack of plates and the two of them moved around each other easily, setting the table. The girl seemed shy. She didn’t look at him or speak, but when everything was ready, rather than sitting beside her mother like he expected, she sat beside him._

_“Can you cut those up for her?” asked Melinda’s mother, who Nick still didn’t have a name for._

_Nick looked to his side where Melinda was struggling with her pancakes. He took the fork and knife from her and made quick work of her pancakes. His fingers came away sticky from where she’d dropped her utensils in the syrup._

_When he got back to his own plate he noticed someone had scooped a large serving of fruit salad onto his pancakes. He looked up at Carter, who was smiling innocently._

_“You need plenty of fruit, get your health back.”_

_Nick hated fruit salad, especially with sliced bananas because they made him gag. But he didn’t want to be rude so he swallowed it all down, trying not to be too obvious about separating everything. After all, the little girl didn’t mind her food touching. He could feel Peggy and her friend smirking at him._

_After breakfast Nick and Carter handled cleanup while Melinda’s mother- Lian, he learned eventually- packed them a lunch. Out of the kitchen window Nick could see Melinda           creeping towards a rabbit. She didn’t look like she wanted to catch it, just wanted to see how close she could get. Every time if hopped further away she managed to get a little bit closer. He wondered what she’d been doing outside his door._

 

Nick met Melinda for the second time in Carter’s office, older and more confident. He caught them at the end of a conversation, big grins on their faces and reaching over the desk to hug.

“Hi,” he said.

She smiled at him and left without a word. Why didn’t that kid ever talk to him?

“Haven’t seen her in a while,” he remarked.

“Grown quite a bit, hasn’t she? I’m excited to see how she’ll do here. You will let me know, won’t you, Director?”

“Not Director yet, apparently. Have to take care of all those boring procedures to make it official.” He made himself comfortable in his usual chair. “So we get a May now?”

“My last official act as Director. With Lian’s blessing, of course.”

“Of course.”

Carter sat back down in the chair behind her desk, looking around her with sad fondness as though saying goodbye to a house before moving to a new one.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Nick felt a little guilty. He was ready and willing to take over, but she wasn’t ready to leave yet.

“I’m not kicking you out, am I?”

Peggy waved him off. “They’ve been pushing me to retire for a while. I’ve been getting on their nerves.”

“We take that as a good sign, right?”

Carter laughed. “You’ll do just fine.”

“Bet Angie will be pleased to have you all to herself now.”

She smiled. “Yes, I’m sure she will.”

They faded into comfortable silence again, which Carter broke before it could get sad. “I wish I could give you some advice, but nothing I tell you will make your job easier.”

“I know,” he said.

“Keep in touch, alright? Come over for tea once in a while, when you have the time. It helps.”

He smiled. “You or me?”

“Both, I hope.”

“I will.”

 

Coulson was a handful, but Nick expected that. He hadn’t expected Garrett, who was even worse. The academy had molded Coulson into a model agent with a mischievous streak that came in handy more often than it interfered. The academy had molded Garrett into a professional pain in the ass. Garrett took his job seriously but he didn’t seem to want anyone to know that. He cracked inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times; he took his pranks too far; he rebelled for rebellion’s sake. His antics had Nick in stitches despite himself, made all the more frustrating when Nick finally regained enough composure to yell at him, and he just sat there, smirking smugly, making wisecracks. No one wanted this idiot. Nick didn’t want him either, but he took him in anyway (curse his generous nature).

Coulson liked him, because Coulson liked annoying people. Nick hoped he’d be a calming influence on Garrett, and told him so.

“If he doesn’t shape up he’s gonna get himself killed,” Nick said over drinks.

“You tell him that?”

“All the time.”

“Hm. Maybe he needs more responsibility.”

“He’s a SHIELD agent. He’s got nothing _but_ responsibility.”

“Give him different responsibilities; scarier ones. Give him a protégé or something.”

“Hm. I think it’s a little too early to give him that much one on one time with a baby agent unsupervised, but you’ve got the right idea.”

Nick made Garrett a drill sergeant of sorts. He was responsible for training the new field agents and whipping them into shape. He was supervised, sometimes by Nick, usually by someone else because Nick was busy, but whoever it was had strict instructions not to step in if something went wrong. If Garrett wanted to goof off, then he’d have to accept and deal with the consequences on his own. It was after his first practice mission (hypothetical scenarios that wouldn’t endanger the agents in any way) with the recruits failed that he really started to buckle down and teach by better example. Garrett had a lot of talent, which he had passed on to the recruits, but he hadn’t taught them discipline. He realized this, started over, and ended up producing some of the best field agents. Coulson was right. Garrett matured a lot after having people under his wing.

“No one’s saying you can’t have any fun,” Nick assured him afterwards. “Fun is important, especially in this line of work, but-“

“Yeah, I know. Time and place.”

“The mission comes first. We need to know that you know that.”

“Actually, sir, if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that the people come first.”

“That’s a good point. That’s a good thing to take away from this.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And he calls me sir now, Nick thought. I did good.

The massacre in Hunan Province was the first solid evidence Nick had that Hydra was still active. The reports about the abandoned base, the village, the baby, gave him a sick feeling in his stomach, like he’d neglected something important and it was too late to do anything about it.

Carter had left him a small file of dead ends, suspicious inactivity; evidence that something was going on but nothing solid, nothing pointing in any particular direction. She suspected Hydra, but whatever it was was quiet enough to cast doubt on any suspicions. Nick kept an eye out but it was useless when he didn’t have a Hydra agent detector. Maybe he should invent one.

Rumors of an assassin-for-hire taking out trouble makers on various hit lists made their way onto Nick’s desk and led him to the circus. Nick had never been to the circus and had never been interested in going. He’d seen pictures as a kid and had been unimpressed with the painted faces and the dancers and animals performing stunts. It looked like make-believe and he had no interest in make-believe.

Now, sitting under the tent and watching the painted faces and the animals perform all their daring stunts, he realized that it wasn’t make-believe. It was very real. He caught himself holding his breath along with the rest of the audience, his palms sweating, watching the tightrope walkers and the trapeze artists, waiting for them to slip and feeling relieved and impressed when they didn’t. It was performance, but very real and scary and exciting. Even the harlequin who danced around between acts was entertaining. She’d appeared in front of him in a puff of smoke at the entrance and “magically” pulled a program from behind his ear before cartwheeling away. Nick, because he knew tricks too, had patted his pockets to make sure his wallet and keys were still there.

There was only one archer- the best in the world, said the poster, and secretly an assassin according to the rumors. He hit every target, no matter how small or far away, sometimes while it was moving, sometimes while he was moving, sometimes while he was blindfolded. The rumors were right; he never missed.

At the end of the show Nick made his way backstage, which wasn’t easy, no matter how dominantly he flashed his badge. The kid was long gone by the time he got there.

 

“Are you sure this is the kid we’re after?”

“His rapid exit suggests that he is. Looks like he knows we’re after him.”

“I just don’t want to go on a wild goose chase for someone who turns out to be just a talented archer.”

“Even if he’s not the assassin we’re looking for he’s still the best marksman in the world. We could use him.”

“As an assassin? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Coulson. That job requires a lot more than talent. We don’t even know this guy.”

“Did you read his files, sir?”

“Yeah, I know about his upbringing. That’s not enough.”

“Should we keep looking?”

“Yeah, let’s keep looking.”

Barton only bothered to hide when Nick went looking for him. Otherwise he appeared at inopportune times, like on missions or dates. Barton would show up and take out the target in the case of the former, or bring a target along in the case of the latter. Then Nick would go look for him and he’d be nowhere to be found.

He figured someone like Barton would know enough about the Contessa to not bother them at her private property during their “meeting,” but apparently not. Nick let Val deal with him that time, thinking Barton wouldn’t be expecting it, and was right. She dragged him into the dining room by his ear and dropped him into the seat across from Nick. He slouched into it, peering up at him in a mix of smug, defiant, and sheepish.

“Now?” said Nick. “You let yourself get caught _now_? Listen. You wanna crash missions and do my job for me, fine. But do we really have to do this _now_?”

“Shoulda caught me earlier.” He was going for smug and kind of managing, but mostly he looked nervous and small.

“Probably, but it was easier to let you keep working for free and avoid all the paperwork.”

“And here I was going to all this trouble making it easy for you.”

“Hey, you wanted a job you should have just asked.”

“But that’s no fun.”

Nick refrained from rolling his eyes. He wished the kid would get to the point so they could stop baiting each other, but Nick wasn’t going to be the first to give. “Well conducting a job interview right now doesn’t sound like fun either. Find me again tomorrow morning.”

Val grabbed Barton’s arm and started to haul him up.

“No! Wait, please!”

She dropped him back into the chair impatiently. “What’s the problem? Was I too rough?”

“I need your help,” he said to her, and turned to Nick again. “I need you to take me in.”

“Absolutely,” Nick agreed. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow. Now if you would please-“

“I’m not here alone,” he said.

That got their attention.

“What?” Val snapped. “Who did you bring with you?”

“No one dangerous!” Barton assured her. “Well, no one dangerous to you two. They’re not enemies, I promise. Just my girlfriend and her little brother. We need someplace safe and guarded to spend the night.”

“Why?”

He hesitated. “Is that important?”

Val towered over him like a stern teacher to an insolent student. “Yes. I’m not as nice as my friend here,” she said, tilting her head towards Nick, who scowled at her and opened his mouth to protest. She cut him off. “And this is my house. Tell me why.”

Barton’s eyes darted to Nick, who stared back blankly.

“My brother got in with a bad crowd and they’ve sort of been stalking us,” he said finally.

“Trying to kill you?”

“Trying to recruit me. They’ve been… stepping up their efforts lately.”

This time it was Val’s eyes that darted to Nick. “Well? He’s here for you. What do you want to do?”

“Let’s bring them in.”

She sighed. “Fine. I hope you’re not lying about there being only three of you, because you’ll be sharing the guest room regardless.”

 

Nick gave Barton his interview in the morning. They used the guest room while Val fed Laura and Cooper breakfast downstairs. Nick was glad he decided to recruit Barton, and he was glad Barton had Laura and Cooper. Nick didn’t think he’d take the job too seriously otherwise. He was talented and loyal, but a troublemaker.

“Basically you’ll be doing what you’ve been doing the past year and a half, only you’ll be paid for it. You’ll have a handler. You’ll have to follow orders.”

Barton nodded. “Right. Work for the system.”

Nick gave him a half smile. “We trust our agents to work around the system if the system won’t help them. That doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want whenever you want. You’re protecting the whole world now, not just a couple of kids.”

 “I’m not a kid,” Laura said as she came in.

“Where’s Cooper?” Barton asked.

“Working his way through a stack of pancakes. So?” She turned to Nick. “Will you take him?”

“Yep. If he promises not to be a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, well, we’ll find someplace else to stay then.” She flopped onto the bed next to Clint and studied Nick calmly for a while. Eventually she said, “You didn’t try very hard to catch us.”

“I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “Sorry?”

“We thought he was on his own,” Nick explained. “And he was doing fine on his own. We did know you and your brother were with him.”

“Oh.” Laura smirked. “Val was right. You’re such a softy.”

“I am not!”

Clint clapped his hands to his lap decisively and stood up. “Welp, I’m going to get some of those pancakes.”

He left, and Nick was left with Laura watching him again, like she was waiting for him to do something interesting. She reached behind his ear and showed him a quarter.

Nick laughed. “I thought I recognized you.”

“Do you want to keep the quarter? It’s yours anyway.”

Nick smiled and shook his head. “You can have it.”

 

Nick flew Clint, Laura and Cooper upstate to the spot he’d had his eye on for a while. He wanted to make some sort of safe house here but never had the time. Now he had people who could hopefully find some use for this place.

“It’s beautiful,” Laura declared. She tilted her head back and enjoyed the breeze, her hair and dress flapping in the wind.

“You’ll have a lot of work to do,” Nick said. “By which I mean all of it.”

“I don’t mind work,” Clint assured him.

“You’re a little ways from town, too, so it’d be a good idea to grow your own food.”

“These guys are good farmers.”

Laura was walking with her arm around Cooper’s shoulders and the two talked about their plans for the farm. “We can have a barn! And barn animals!”

“Can we have horses?”

“Sure.”

Clint watched with a sort of resigned fondness.

 “Looks like we’re staying.”

 

_Nick didn’t read a lot of fiction. He read about real people and their real lives, things that actually happened. He read about people he shared the world with. Their stories were more tangible, more significant; they were the context for the stories happening now. He knew his grandmother loved fiction because it was flexible and multifaceted in a way that non-fiction wasn’t. It offered more. Nick could appreciate that, but he liked nonfiction. There was no trick to it; it was the way it was._

_It was an uncomfortably hot day, Grandma’s funeral. It was small and brief, held outside like she wanted. There wasn’t a lot of crying, because despite her melancholy romanticism, she hated fuss, hated being the center of attention. She liked things quick and efficient so that she could go home and relax with Phillis Wheatley and Bessie Smith._

_After the funeral Nick crawled into his grandmother’s chair to finally read her favorite book of poems from cover to cover, to see if any of it cheered him up._

Nick was hard to get hold of the day the Starks died. He’d had to hear about it on the news. He tried to find Tony at the funeral but it was too crowded. He hoped Carter was able to find him.

The Jarvises had a separate, smaller funeral for Edwin. Carter cried at both of them. Nick had never seen her do that before. Anna didn’t cry. She was too tired to cry.

Nick took her home afterwards. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but she didn’t want company just then, so he made sure the bed was made and that there was plenty of food and tea, and went back to his own apartment.

He didn’t know what to do with himself when he got there. He’d never been good at mourning. People were alive and then they weren’t. He’d never known how to process that. He felt numb. He stared into space and sighed a lot. He paced aimlessly. Crying would be easier; then the mourning would be done and he could move on. But he didn’t cry.

He cracked open a beer and settled onto the couch for a long night channel flipping.

 

It should have been a simple mission. And there must have been several reasons why Nick thought it would be a good idea to handle it himself and to take Pierce along; he hadn’t left the office in a while, he needed to keep himself sharp, he wanted to prove a point to Pierce in a roundabout way.  Remind him how much he hates these things so maybe he shouldn’t be so picky about whom Nick hires. Nab the opportunity to take Pierce’s jet. Maybe he just missed his company; Nick honestly couldn’t remember. He vaguely remembered the conversation in the jet on the way over.

“When did you quit smoking?” Nick had asked.  Pierce had been playing with his lighter, flicking it on and off.

“Oh… shortly after Vivien left.”

Nick frowned. “When did Vivien leave?”

“Shortly after you did.”

“Oh.”

Nick wandered around for a while, not wanting to press the topic.

“Do you think it was smart, bringing Barton in?” Pierce asked suddenly. Nick turned to look at him. He had his usual vaguely amuse smile in place.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Heard the Council’s been on you case about it.”

“They’re on my case about everything. Barton has been invaluable to SHIELD. I don’t know what their problem is.”

“You have to admit it’s somewhat unorthodox. By which I mean extremely risky.”

Nick sighed. He wasn’t having this conversation right now. Pierce didn’t get the hint.

“And May? Has she also proved invaluable to SHIELD?”

“Of course she has. She’s May.”

It wasn’t what Pierce was asking but Nick had gone into this enough with the Council; he didn’t what to get into it now. He grabbed the lighter from Pierce because it was beginning to annoy him and pocketed it, ignoring Pierce’s smirk.

“I only ask because when they raise these perfectly valid concerns and you decide to be a- and I’m quoting here- ‘snarky little shit,’ guess who gets to hear all about it.”

“Why don’t you take a seat on the Council, then? You can be the middle ground.”

Pierce laughed. “You think they talk to me because they like me. My friend, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Nick didn’t remember landing or sorting out the hotel room or anything like that, but Pierce assured him nothing noteworthy happened during that time. It was the mission Nick was more concerned about anyway. Even after the painkillers wore off it was hard to piece together what happened. Three things happened at once. Nick took out his target just as Pierce’s voice through the coms cut off abruptly with a strangled cry. In the same instant there was a sudden swish of shadow and claws slashing at Nick’s eye. That’s how he remembered it, but it came in foggy segments and he didn’t know how much of his own memory to trust. Pierce couldn’t give him any information. He’d been unconscious the whole time.

By the time Nick was coherent enough to ask any additional questions, they were flying back home.

“Why did we have to hurry out of there so fast?”

Pierce chuckled. “SHIELD is the same all over the place; too territorial and too nosy. I guess it would have raised too many questions if they’d let us interfere.” At some point Pierce had reclaimed his lighter. Nick could hear him flicking it on and off.

“Couldn’t you have used you diplomatic magic and disagreed?”

Pierce was sitting at his blind side so Nick didn’t know what his expression looked like, but he could guess. “What would you expect to achieve if I had? You’re in no condition to work at the moment and while I wish I could help, I’m needed at home. Besides, I think I’m of more use to you close by.”

Nick sighed and drummed his fingers irritably on the armrest. “Come sit on this side so I can see you,” he said.

Pierce squeezed his shoulder comfortingly and moved to his other side. “I know you want to dig into this, but don’t. It won’t help. Just take it easy for a while.”

Nick sighed again. He was going to hear that a lot, wasn’t he?

“By the way,” Pierce added. “I decided to take a seat on the council.”

 

Nick spent a lot of time fuming (on the inside, because he didn’t want to hear anyone tell him to calm down). Not that anyone would. In fact, everyone was nice and sympathetic and supportive, which only made his mood worse. He didn’t want to hear, “It’ll get better.” He _knew_ it would get better. But in the meantime he had to retake his driving lessons, his flying lessons, his shooting lessons; he had to get a psyche evaluation; and much as he hated to admit it, he felt embarrassed about wearing an eye patch. But the way people looked at his scars when he didn’t wear it was even worse.

“It’ll get better,” they would say. “I know,” he’d say. Then they’d look at him like they were mourning something. He hated that. He was still the director. He could still work. A lot of things were harder for him to do now, but he’d get back to his usual standard eventually, and he was going to do every bit of work it took to get there. But it was hard when everyone kept looking at him like his mother had just died.

He didn’t tell anyone what happened. Anyone who worked with him could see what happened and anyone who didn’t heard about it anyway, so he couldn’t phone his non-work friends without eventually having to talk about it. His parents were angry on his behalf, Anna fussed over him, and Peggy, though she didn’t linger on the topic, wanted to make sure he was readjusting alright. He didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted to work.

“Take it out on the vegetables, not your fingers,” said Lian.

Nick adjusted his pace to a more careful one.

“What did you expect?” she continued. “You’re supposed to have it together all the time. Everyone just found out you’re not superman and it scares them.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?” Nick asked.

“Nothing. It’s not your fault. You’ll readjust and they’ll get over it, but right now they’re realizing that you’re as vulnerable as any of them and they don’t know how to handle it.”

“Is that really what’s happening?”

“How should I know? I don’t know these people.”

“I just wish they’d stop trying to handle it,” he muttered. “Pretend everything’s normal until they don’t have to pretend.”

Lian took the knife and cutting board from him and scraped the vegetables into the pot. Nick sat at the table. The soup was beginning to give that warm, comforting smell. He wondered how often Melinda had been in this kitchen since she’d been hired, seeking her mother’s comfort or guidance and a home cooked meal.

“I spent the better part of my career trying to prove myself to people I wouldn’t give the time of day,” said Lian, stirring some extra seasoning into the pot. “And now that I’m old and arthritic I have to prove myself all over again, to a bunch of condescending, wet-behind-the-ears kids.”

Nick huffed a laugh through his nose. He’d heard this before. This was why he was here.

“Or at least that’s what it feels like. But then I remember that I’m good at my job. I’m the best at my job. That’s why I’m the boss. These kids are the ones who have to prove themselves. I’m the one who decides who stays and who leaves.”

She poured two bowls of soup and sat at the table with him, handing him his. “You better eat the carrots.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Nick had hoped he’d never have to deal with Red Room graduates, not because of what they could do, but because he knew he’d try to save them even if it killed him. These girls had been conditioned to kill since childhood. They lived for the mission. Who’s to say what they understood about right and wrong, good and bad? How much free will did they have? Were they aware enough to want to leave? SHIELD’s knowledge on the Red Room was not extensive, but there hadn’t been a single recorded encounter with one of its graduates that hadn’t resulted in the death of one or the other. Luckily, Nick wasn’t the only idiot who’d risk his neck to prove people wrong.

Nick wished he could take the Black Widow in personally, but there was no way she was going to trust the Director of SHIELD, no matter how he approached her or what he offered her. But Barton was an assassin. The Black Widow would know that. And Nick trusted him to have enough compassion to try and help her, whatever that might mean.

_You didn’t tell me she was a teenager._

That was the first message Barton sent him since he started the mission and Nick knew they were on the same page, even if Barton didn’t.

_I didn’t have that information,_ he responded.

About a week later Barton said, _My mark is stalking me._

_No, you’re stalking her. Stop playing around._

A few days after that, _She hasn’t done anything. She just shows up and hangs around. No one’s dead yet._

Nick decided not to reply to that. Barton had made his decision, he could tell. A week later he got an email from Laura. _You busy this weekend? Come visit?_

It was a smart idea, now that he thought about it. Barton didn’t like to think of the Black Widow as the bad guy. He thought of her as a teenager with no family, no friends, no real purpose beyond what she’d been taught in the Red Room, and no other options that she was aware of beyond what Barton was offering her now. Taking her to his home, his safe space where his wife lived, so that she could recover and sort herself out and make friends, was a smart way to earn her trust. He was glad he put Barton on her case; it was a smart idea, but a risk Nick wouldn’t have taken in a million years.

Nick couldn’t help but grin at the way Laura’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “Hey you,” he said.

“Nick! Yay!” She pulled him in for a bear hug. “I gotta take in Black Widows now? Is that what it takes to get you to visit?”

“She hasn’t been any trouble, has she?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“No. She didn’t even come out of her room the first day. And then she barely talked or ate or anything. She’s still skittish, but she’s warming up to us. Are you going to recruit her?”

“I’m going to try.”

Romanoff sat cross-legged on the couch, hands folded in her lap and clutching each other too tight for her to look as relaxed as she hoped. Her hair was wet from the shower and she was wearing clothes that she’d probably borrowed from Laura.

Clint and Laura stood at the window. Nick sat at the opposite end of the couch. Romanoff twisted to face him.

He waited a moment to see if she’d speak. She didn’t. “Hi,” he said.

“You’re the director of SHIELD.”

“Yes I am. You can call me Director if you want, or Nick, or Fury; whatever you like. What can I call you?”

She didn’t respond for a full five seconds, and then she shrugged minutely.

“I guess I’ll stick with Romanoff for now. Is that okay?”

Another small shrug.

“Miss Romanoff, I’m going to have to bring you in eventually- you know, procedure and all that, but that can wait a while. But I do have questions that I need answers to sooner rather than later.”

He waited for some signal from her for him to continue. Eventually she caught on and nodded once.

“I need to know why you’re here, who your target is.”

“You,” she said simply.

“Me?”

“SHIELD.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “SHIELD. You’re going to take out SHIELD all by yourself?”

“Yes.” Her expression didn’t change. She said it so calm and self-assured it was frightening. Then she amended, “Well, I was.”

“Changed your mind?”

She was silent for a long time. “Something like that.”

“How would you have taken us out?”

“I was supposed to kill you, hack in and leak all your information onto the internet.” She shrugged. “Good a plan as any, I suppose. Not that it matters now.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She took a deep breath, like she was about to confess something that had been weighing on her. “I don’t want to go back. I want to work for you.”

Nick had a feeling it was something like that, though he’d expected more of a fight. Well, not a fight, but he thought he’d have to tie a carrot to a stick or something. “When did you decide this?”

“When they told me to take you out.”

Everything she was saying to him caused alarm bells to ring half-heartedly, out of obligation more than anything else. He was inclined to believe her. It was the tension she tried to hide but couldn’t; the effort she put into answering his questions, like forming any sort of response was a struggle. It was the vulnerability; it seemed to appear against her will. It seemed genuine. And maybe she _was_ playing him, but what would be the point? She could have taken out her target, whoever it happened to be, and been on her way by now if she wanted.

“Why do you want to work for SHIELD?”

She hesitated, like she was afraid of what she was going to say. “I want to protect people.” And then, quieter, like an embarrassing admission, “I want people to protect me.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said Laura.

 

Romanoff was quiet and efficient. She didn’t have hobbies, didn’t do anything for fun. She didn’t even complain about paperwork, though Nick knew the concept must be foreign to her and that she must have _some_ complaints. He tried to get her to open up.

“I need that mission report as soon as possible,” he’d say. “Exhausting, I know. Feels like nothing is ever done. Even Coulson tends to-“

“Finished,” she’d say, handing him her report and then going to lunch.

She didn’t even complain about his hovering. Nick didn’t think she trusted him enough to complain, but she didn’t talk to Barton much either. He was trying to rectify that but he was a little out of practice. He hadn’t been anyone’s S.O. in years. Coulson was his go-to for that now, but he’d refused to take her.

“I think you should take this one, boss,” he’d said.

“Why? You scared?”

“No. Well yes, but she requested you.”

Nick frowned. “Why?”

Coulson shrugged. “Don’t know. You’re her S.O.; why don’t you ask her?”

He didn’t ask because he didn’t think she wanted him to. He took it as a show of trust, requesting him, and he returned it by accepting. He didn’t think she appreciated his conversations attempts either, so he stopped. If all she needed him for was work, fine. If she could be what he needed, he could be what she needed.

 

Nick felt a little bad for feeling relieved at not needing the First Aid kit for him. He needn’t have been concerned; he was safe on the tenth floor of empty office cubicles, relaying instructions through the comms. The damage to his eye had left him slightly paranoid about that kind of thing.

Still, it was kind of funny that of the three of them, Romanoff was the one to injure herself. Nick was half blind and probably an old man to the other two, Barton was arguably the least experienced and a bit of a daredevil, and Romanoff was the Black Widow. Technically she wasn’t even on the job when it happened; she’d finished her part and then tripped on the way down the stairs. But he didn’t laugh.

 “Would you believe this is the first time I ever messed up?”

“Yes,” said Nick. He pulled up another chair and sat down before gently lifting her foot onto his lap so that he could wrap it. “Doesn’t look too bad. You’ll be back to work in no time.”

“What do I do until then?” She looked scared when she asked.

“Just take it easy. I’m sure we can find something for you to do if you get bored, but stay off that foot.”

“I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “What for?”

“I’m going to be useless to you now.”

Nick huffed a laugh. “Only for a little while, unless you want to do deskwork for a few weeks.”

“I can do that,” she said hurriedly.

“If you want, but wouldn’t you rather take some time off and… watch T.V. or whatever people do with time off?”

She didn’t answer and looked a little downcast.

“You don’t _have_ to,” he assured her.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself anyway.”

“I’m sure Laura would like the company.”

She shrugged again. They stayed quiet for a little while, Nick’s hand wrapped lightly around her foot, comforting, to keep it still, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m not going to punish you for a sprained ankle, you know,” he said eventually. “Or any kind of injury. No one’s going to punish you for that.”

“This would have ended me at my old job.”

“You’re not at your old job.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze.

“I’m not firing you, Nata- agent Romanoff, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured her. “But you’re right. You’re not going to be much use for a little while, so you might as well take a break until you’re healed. That would be the smart thing to do.”

“I don’t know what to do with time off,” she said.

“Then come to work and keep me company. It’s up to you.”

Finally, the scared, miserable look on her face subsided and her usual calmly assured expression reappeared.

“Yes, sir.”

 

_Nick’s mother was a school teacher; his dad was a pilot. That’s what they talked about when Nick finally met with them. They didn’t go into why Nick hadn’t seen his mom in so long, or why he’d never met his dad until now. It just didn’t come up. They didn’t connect as parents and child; it had been too long, and Nick didn’t need them to fulfil that role anymore, had never really needed that from them. There was no bitterness. Nick was happy to have them as his friends._

_They talked about flying, about the places they’d been to, the people they’d met, the bratty kids they had to deal with. Nick talked about his grandparents and Anna and Peggy._

_It was nice. He was glad he met with them. Something in his mind that he’d never noticed before seemed to settle._

 

“You busy this weekend, sir?” Barton asked, standing only half inside Nick’s office like he always did if he could help. Nick got the impression that Barton had been called into the principal’s office too many times and had been left with a fear spaces owned by authority figures.

“Probably,” Nick answered, not looking up from his computer screen.

“Well, if you’re not you should come over. Natasha will be there.”

“I don’t think I can get away the whole weekend.”

“Come over for dinner, at least. Please, sir? I mean, even with just one of them I’m outnumbered.”

“You like being outnumbered.”

“Well, yeah, but still.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Nick managed get away for a little while. The house had grown a patio since he’d last been there. Every time he visited- which, granted, wasn’t often- there was a new addition. The patio wasn’t the only new addition to the house this time.

“Something’s different about you,” Nick joked when he saw Laura. “Were you always this pregnant?”

“Shut up,” Laura groaned, but she was smiling. “I feel like a whale.”

“Aw, but you’re such a cute little whale,” Clint teased, kissing her temple.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Natasha asked.

“Boy,” Clint answered. “Clint Jr.”

“Cooper,” said Laura.

“Always got to have a Cooper around. Bet your brother will love that.”

“The oldest boy is always Cooper. Cooper Clinton Barton.”

Nick and Clint handled supper while Laura and Natasha sat at the table and talked. Nick was impressed with how easily Natasha talked here. She still didn’t say much, much she seemed very comfortable here. Nick was glad she could relax here with them. Nick had trouble relaxing anywhere right away, and then not for very long. He was always on call. He kept expecting to get paged back to work at any second.

After supper Laura showed Natasha all the sewing projects she had piling up while Clint showed Nick around the farm. Evenings like this were unusual for the four of them, where they could relax and talk freely about work or whatever and not feel like they were in danger. Nick was still twitch and Natasha was always on her guard, but they knew they didn’t have to be and they appreciated that.

_Lilies in the Field_ was on T.V., which of course they had to watch because Nick’s crush on Sidney Poitier had somehow become public knowledge. They all fell asleep half way through, with Nick waking up at the end when he got called in to work. He gently lifted Laura’s head from his shoulder and laid it to rest on Natasha’s, quickly making sure Clint hadn’t been jostled too much in the process. He left a note on the coffee table and quietly left to deal with this weekend’s crisis.

 

“ _Director Fury, the Council is skeptical enough regarding your leadership. Your continued disregard for protocol does not do you any favors.”_

_“SHIELD was created to fight against exactly the sort of threats you are proposing.”_

_“The people you are suggesting for this team are dangerous and unpredictable. Have you considered the threats they would pose as a team, let alone on their own? It seems counterproductive.”_

“I’m still bouncing ideas around; this isn’t a finalized list. But there isn’t a person on it that I wouldn’t vouch for. Everyone on this list has proved themselves more than once in the past.”

_“You seem ready to vouch for anyone with a strong fist and a pretty face, Director. You have yet to convince us. Who else can vouch for them?”_

“I can make another list if you need me to.”

_“We might but don’t concern yourself with that just yet. You still need to convince us that this team of yours is not a waste of time. You are not the first person to bring up these potential threats. SHIELD designed a system years ago for every imaginable scenario.”_

“And what about the unimaginable ones? Systems fail. We need contingency plans.”

_“Fair enough. But in that case it’s not the idea of the Avengers Initiative we object to. Your candidates are still questionable.”_

“They wouldn’t be candidates if I didn’t think they deserved to be.”

_“Your judgment is also questionable. Director, if we thought it would do any good we would advise you not to go through with this plan. If you must have the Avengers Initiative, find different candidates. The team as it stands now is the kind of threat SHIELD is supposed to eradicate, not utilize.”_

“Let’s hope I never have to prove you wrong.”

“You didn’t tell me about the Avengers Initiative,” said Pierce, feigning offence. He helped himself to some of the nuts on Nick’s desk. “Could have saved you a lecture.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it either.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t _like_ it.” He sat down in the visitor’s chair, lounging comfortably. “But what do we need it for? The Council likes Project Insight. Why’d you have to go and piss them off?”

“Like I told them, systems fail. We need more than one failsafe.” He didn’t tell Pierce that they needed the Avengers because of Project Insight; that when Nick bounced that particular idea off him he hadn’t meant for Pierce to take it straight to the Council; that the giant gun was an insurance plan in case everything went to shit and even superheroes couldn’t fix it. Nick stood by his Project Insight idea but he wished he had kept it to himself until he’d refined it, until it was safe for even these trigger-happy fools to play with . Still, it was only a contingency plan, and now he had a contingency plan for that contingency plan. And he was working on a contingency plan for _that_ contingency plan. It would require some rearranging of a few agents and a certain creepy melty rock, plus a team and probably some upping of clearance levels… God, he had a lot of work to do.

“Kind of a farfetched failsafe. How do you expect to get Captain America on the team?”

“I can dream.”

“You’re not a dreamer, you’re a doer. What are you going to do with Captain America when you find him?”

“I’ll keep looking for Rogers but obviously I’m not counting on him being alive. Someone else will be Captain America.”

“Who’d you have in mind?”

Nick thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Sharon Carter.”

Pierce nodded. “Bit green, but I can see the appeal. Who else?”

Nick thought for a moment. “Well, I haven’t called in that favor from your daughter yet.”

“Don’t be a jackass, Nick.”

“Why didn’t you speak up? By rights that should be you up there.”

“I picked a bad time to be unconscious.”

“That doesn’t give him any excuse.”

“I know. Thompson’s a jackass but he knows better. This’ll eat away at him a lot longer than it’ll bother me.”

“It’s not right. I can call for an investigation; prove who should really be getting that medal.”

“I don’t need a medal, Rhodes. Just you and your unconditional love-struck praise.”

“Up yours, Hill.”

Nick smirked as he watched the two good-naturedly rib each other in front of him. He’d investigated the matter himself and Rhodes was right. Maria Hill should have got that medal. He pulled her aside after the ceremony and told her so.

“Commander Hill? Colonel Fury.”

They shook hands.

“Heard that should have been you up there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Have you been talking to Rhodes? I swear to God, if that man has been spreading that around-“

“No. I did a little digging of my own. Something didn’t sit right with me after I heard the story. Turns out, I was right. You ought to be commended.”

“I was just doing my job.”

She looked vaguely annoyed at constantly being told that. It was amusing, as well as assuring that Nick was talking to the right person. “You saved your whole squadron single-handedly. Not one casualty.”

“Landed me a concussion though. That’s where Thompson comes in. He shouldn’t go completely without credit.”

“Well, I’m not here to recruit Thompson. What do you know about SHIELD?”

 

He put Hill through a six month training period that Nick designed specifically for his second in command, which she passed. He knew she would. A lot of people were annoyed that the newest member of the organization got the position and would therefore be able to jump clearance levels pretty quickly. The Council liked her, which Nick found odd and slightly alarming. But Hill was militaristic and by-the-book, so of course they liked her. His alarm faded quickly, because though Hill disagreed with him on just about everything, she had faith in his leadership and she never questioned his motives. It was a balance Nick looked for with the Council but never quite achieved.

 

_Granddad’s stroke seemed to mark the end of something. He didn’t work anymore. He was slower, quieter, tired out quicker. They didn’t play chess or talk about the news. It was no surprise when he passed away._

_It was a small funeral, but there was plenty of food and music and dancing, because Granddad didn’t want to be mourned, so he was celebrated. Nick didn’t stick around for the party though. He didn’t have the energy._

_Anna took him home and sat with him, letting him lean his head on her shoulder and stare into space while she rubbed his back._

_“What are you going to do now?” she asked._

_He shrugged._

_“Do you want to come stay with us?’_

_He shrugged._

_She didn’t question him further. They just sat there quietly, because that was all he could do._

Nick didn’t make it to Anna’s funeral. He was preoccupied with Rogers.

“Cozy,” Rogers commented, looking around the cabin. He threw his bag onto the couch.

“You can say quaint,” Nick said. “I won’t be offended.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind.”

It was easy to forget how sad everyone had been when Rogers had thawed out with a pulse. Now it was just sad, watching him wander around and trying to connect with a city that should be familiar but wasn’t, trying to relate to people but just not having the energy, joking around with them in an offhand, obligated manner.

“Stay as long as you need. Don’t worry about cleaning up; no one else does.”

Rogers smiled half-heartedly and went to examine the kitchen.

“You know how to use your cellphone?”

“Yep.”

“What about the computer? Learn how to use that yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh. Well, let’s do that before I go. The books here are not particularly informative. Here. Has Romanoff told you about YouTube yet?”

Rogers was still too depressed to get excited about anything Nick showed him, but he kept visiting and over the next couple of weeks Rogers got more and more absorbed in his reading. Nick worried that this might not be the best thing for his mental state, but he seemed fine. Rogers was lonely, that was the main problem. And while Nick could be there for him in all the ways he knew how, it wouldn’t make him any less lonely.

Rogers was back and setting into his new apartment by the time Nick found out that Anna had died.

“It was a nice service,” Peggy said over the phone. “If a bit conventional.”

“Sorry I missed it,” said Nick. And he was. He should have helped organize the damn thing, not that he’d know where to start.

“She would have understood.”

“She would have pouted at me anyway.”

Peggy laughed. “She did the same to me for ages. Did it to her husband too, once he figured out that she knew what he was really up to. But she was proud of us too. She liked that we helped me. She liked that you want to help people.”

“I wish I’d visited more. We kind of lost touch for a while.”

“That happens,” Peggy said. There wasn’t much else to say about that.

 

Eventually the team had worked out. Eventually they pulled together and saved the day. Stark got his crap together, Rogers was the leader everyone said he was, Barton was safe again. Worth the blood stained trading cards in his pocket and Audrey’s heartbroken tears over the phone. It didn’t make him feel better but it was worth it. They’d saved the planet.

Now all her had to do was save SHIELD. He’d been counting on Coulson’s help for that, though. Coulson was a permanent fixture in every scenario he imagined. He hadn’t planned for a scenario that didn’t include Coulson.

Well, he had contingency plans for his contingency plans.

It had risks too, but everything always did.

Melinda had been silent when Nick told her Coulson was coming back, silent when she read the file that explained how, silent when he told her what he needed from her now, and silent for a good while after that. She sat there, staring at him, expressionless (the furious kind of expressionless), and then she sighed. “In what world could you possibly think this was a good idea?” she asked, throwing the file onto her desk.

“You don’t want to know. I just need you to keep an eye on him. He’ll come to you, try and get you back in the field. I need you to say yes. Make your own parameters, just be there for him. And vet his team. He doesn’t make a decision that isn’t approved by you first.”

“But don’t tell him.”

“Correct.”

“I suppose you’ll want me to report back to you.”

“Regularly.”

Melinda nodded. She hated this whole thing, he could tell. After Bahrain she’d been so… _resigned_. Resigned to the fucked-upness of everything; SHIELD, people, him. And then it seemed like Coulson dying and confirmed something for her. The pointlessness of it all. Nick must have been wrong about that though, or she wouldn’t be agreeing to this now.

 She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, planting her face in her hand, sighed again tiredly.

“Melinda, I’m s-“

“Don’t apologize, Nick. I swear to God, I’ll punch you in the face.”

She wasn’t telling him to leave, so he stayed. She didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t try to apologize again. He never apologized and she clearly didn’t want him to.

“I remember when you showed up at my house for the first time.”

Nick smiled. “Way back when? You were scared of me.”

“No I wasn’t. You were so sick when you got there. They said it was just a bad cold but I can’t believe that. You were delirious. I remember my mom trying to get you comfortable enough to sleep and eventually giving up and just holding you. That was scary. I thought you were dying.”

“I don’t remember that. I remember choking down fruit salad and watching you chase rabbits. Did you catch whatever I had?”

“I caught a cold but not as bad as yours. I think you had fallen into the river and that’s what made it so bad. It was not a clean river.”

They were silent for a little while longer.

“I know I was sick but I don’t remember… I really appreciate you guys taking us in. I don’t think really told you back then.”

“You didn’t have to. We got it.”

 

“Pierce called me into his office today,” Sitwell said, hushed and offhand, wary of the bugs he and Nick both knew weren’t there. Nick checked every day. And then installed one under his desk.

“What for?” Nick accepted the file or ordinary procedural stuff hiding a new list of names and hopefully some other helpful details.

“Not sure. I got the feeling he was interrogating me.”

“Did anything seem especially unusual to you?”

Sitwell kept his face blank and his tone only a hint deliberate. “No sir. Not especially.”

Nick sighed. “Thank you, agent Sitwell. Dismissed.”

Nick flipped to the list of names- no more than three ever appeared at once- and sure enough, Pierce was on it with question mark circled beside him.

 

Nick shed his jacket and draped it lazily over the couch before making his way to the bedroom and perching on the side of the bed. He moved like a tired, achy old man. His age had caught up with him over the last few months. He’d grown a beer belly and bags under his eye. He tended to lose the weight as quickly as he gained it, but the bags never went away. Everything about him- his attitude, his posture, his tone- read of exhaustion.

He couldn’t turn off the worry. He’d come home in a panic and go over every inch of the apartment, checking that the alarms worked, that there were no gas leaks, no toxic mold growing on the windowsill. He’d cook until there was nothing left in the fridge because he worried it would all go bad. He was too worried to sleep. Sometimes he was too depressed to worry and he’d just sit at the kitchen table, nursing a whisky or whatever he had on hand, letting his mind take whatever dark turn it chose.

He sighed; rested his elbows on his knees and dipped his face into his hands; yawned. His fingers absently traced the outline of his eye patch. He let his hands drop, lifted his head enough to see his reflection in the mirror. He stood up and walked over to it.

He watched himself trace his eye patch again, before easing it off so that he could trace the scars over his eye thoughtfully. He had wanted to look into it, once upon a time, but he became preoccupied with getting his target scores back up, and then it hadn’t mattered in perspective. There were no bags under this eye. He wondered if he covered up his good eye if he would still look tired. He wouldn’t know because he wouldn’t be able to see.

He turned impatiently from the mirror as though it offended him and slipped his eye patch back on.

 

_She was in one of SHIELD’s interrogation rooms. It was large and dark and intimidating, though she didn’t feel intimidated. She wasn’t cuffed to the table because she didn’t need to be. She wasn’t in trouble. Still, this was why she worked freelance._

_“Hello, Vera,” said Peggy when she came in, smiling warmly. She sat down across from her._

_Vera smiled back. “Hey Peg. Long time no see.”_

_“Heard you got a job as a teacher.”_

_Vera shrugged. “Teacher, secretary, whatever any given school needs.”_

_“I suppose that would make things easier.”_

_“To set fire to them you mean.”_

_“Well, I wasn’t accusing you of that but since you brought it up, what do you know about the string of fires? You were the only person at every targeted school.”_

_“Yes, well, I accidentally found out that Hydra had infiltrated the school system so I had to clear as many of them as I could. They’re gone now.”_

_“One can hope,” Peggy muttered. “Did Hydra infiltrate all the schools?”_

_“Not all of them. Plenty though. Mostly tiny secluded boarding schools. And yes, I did set some of those fires. The buildings were empty, obviously. Hydra liked to burn the buildings with the student records and all the other evidence. I kept the student records but I didn’t want them getting suspicious, so…”_

_“Right. And these buildings were cheaply made so no one would suspect arson.”_

_“Except you.”_

_“You must have had help.”_

_“Yes, Jack helped me.”_

_“Where can we find him?”_

_“In the next interrogation cell, I imagine.”_

_“Ah, yes, of course. He’s being rather difficult.”_

_“I’m afraid I dragged him into this.”_

_“And where does your son fit into all this?”_

_“How’d you know about him?”_

_“We found out when we were looking for you.”_

_“He stayed with his grandparents. I told them to send him to school, just in case. Don’t know if they listened.”_

_“I’m sure he’s fine. Have you seen him recently?”_

_“I saw him at my dad’s funeral. Didn’t talk to him.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Didn’t know what to say.”_

 

He wanted them to look proud of themselves. He wanted them to stare up at him with smug, stupid, smiling faces. Maybe then he could justify his anger at them. He wanted to blame them. He _did_ blame them. But he knew he shouldn’t, no more than he should blame himself.

He hurled the picture across the room anyway. The frame splintered and glass shattered everywhere. One of the shards ricocheted off the wall and hit his sunglasses. It was too late to be angry and throwing tantrums wasn’t making him feel better.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the old empty base. He went over and picked the picture up out of the glass. He traced the edge with his finger, almost reverently, before folding it and putting it in his pocket. He’d pack it away with the rest of his life and say goodbye properly.

He crammed his entire life into one storage unit, set it on fire, and started all over again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
